Charging Madness
by Little Rachael
Summary: Wylfred gets sick of sharing the same breathing space with Gwendal.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: I like to go through books and magazines and take the first sentence from the page which corresponds with my age. If it meets certain criteria, I must build an entire story or post that includes that sentence. Of course, I will give credit.

The sentence in this story can be found in the book _Sons and Lovers_ by D.H. Lawrence.

The mood in the tavern was gloomy on the last night of the year. The rebellion had been quelled, but at the cost of dozens of lives, and many of the tavern's regulars were dead. Even Cheripha, normally the very face of optimism, had little to say.

Finally, Gwendal broke the silence with the eloquent statement: "This sucks kobold dick."

Lockswell glared at him. "Please don't talk like that in front of my daughter."

Gwendal chuckled. "Aw, I'm sure she's heard worse from her fellow assassins. Right, lassie?" he asked, patting her lightly on the shoulder.

"'Fellow assassins'? Who said anything about her being an assassin?"

"Well, you're makin' it pretty obvious. What is it you're always sayin'? 'To see an assassin is to see your life's end'? You're not exactly keepin' it a secret, are ya?"

Lockswell's frown grew deeper. "Cheripha is innocent."

Gwendal shrugged and took a big drink from his mug. When he set it down he let out a loud belch, to which Cheripha and Darius reacted by scooting their chairs further away from him. "Ach, that hit the spot. It doesn't matter to me who's innocent or guilty, as long as I get my pay." He turned to glare at Darius. "Don't forget that, either! I ain't leavin' ya until I'm paid!"

"How could I forget with someone like you to remind me?" Darius grumbled. He took a sip of his wine and sighed.

Wylfred watched the conversation with irritation. Lockswell and Darius were quiet, and Cheripha was friendly, but Gwendal was loud, vulgar, and mean. His only redeeming quality was his ability on the battlefield, but he wasn't worth more than Darius, Lockswell, and Cheripha combined. And he was ugly. And stupid. If this were a cheap novel, he'd be that one guy who's technically a villain, but no one takes seriously because he's so pathetic. Wylfred chuckled as he thought that.

"What are you laughin' at?" Gwendal demanded.

"If there's something amusing, Wyl, share it with us!" Cheripha said.

Wylfred shook his head. "It's nothing that everyone would find amusing." An uncharacteristic giggle rose out of him. "Gwendal wouldn't think it was funny."

Gwendal snorted. "What, you think I can't take an insult or two? I can banter with the best of 'em."

Wylfred took a drink. "Well, I think the humor would be lost on you, pal. I doubt you can read."

"I can read what's important," Gwendal said. "I need to know when I'm bein' swindled. Businessmen like to have you sign contracts these days. It never used to be that way, y'know. Back when I was a young 'un, a man was as good as his word."

"You must have been worth very little then," Wylfred scoffed, and took another drink.

"I'm very honorable," Gwendal insisted. "Once someone's given me a job, I do that job, no matter what, and there ain't a soul in this country that can stop me."

"Oh?" Lockswell took a sip of water. He was avoiding alcohol to set a good example for Cheripha. "You wouldn't defect to someone willing to pay you more?"

"Of course not. Once the guy you're workin' for gets wind of a betrayal, you'll have a price on your head faster than you can fart." Gwendal grinned. "I got nothin' resemblin' a sense of honor, but I gotta look out for number one."

"What's the point of wanting to stay alive if no one likes you?" Cheripha asked before taking a sip of her tea.

"I do have one person who actually gives a toss whether I live or die," Gwendal said. "Other than my boss before I finish the job. My wife would most certainly be troubled if I were to kick the bucket."

The others stared at him, open-mouthed. Cheripha blurted out, "You have a wife?"

"Yup, I'm a married man. I've made many a woman cry with those words."

"Now _that_ is a lie," Wylfred grumbled. He blew bubbles in his drink with his straw. Gwendal looked at him with disgust-imagine that!

"I have never seen such a sickening spectacle in my life," Gwendal said. "Boy, whaddya think you're doin'? Who drinks whisky through a damn straw? What are ya, six?"

Wylfred ground his teeth together in pure rage. "How dare you! Sipping drinks through a straw makes them more flavorful."

"Aye, if you want your drink tastin' like metal. And whaddya think you're at, blowin' bubbles like a wee one?"

Wylfred slammed the table with his fist. "I wasn't paying attention! I was too distracted by your ugly voice! Anyway, what the hell do you mean, seeing me drinking with a straw is the most sickening spectacle you've ever seen? What, seeing people die is better? You really are the spawn of Hel, aren't you?"

"Ehh, I've been called worse." Gwendal slammed his now-empty mug on the table. "Hey, wench! Get me some more ale, here!"

Lockswell sighed with embarrassment and put his face in his hands. "Sir Gwendal, there are no 'wenches' here. If you want another drink, go to the bar and pay for it like a civilized human being."

Gwendal took a few copper coins from his wallet and dropped them in front of Wylfred. "Go get me another cold one, runt. And don't try to pocket the change for yourself."

That was the final straw. Wylfred grabbed his drink and guzzled it all down. Then he threw it onto the floor and picked it up again. "Go," he cried thickly, lifting his fist. "Get out of here. I'm not traveling with you anymore!"

Gwendal snorted. "If you hate it so much, go yourself. No one's makin' you travel with me."

"Why should _I_ leave? I'm not the one causing trouble, and no one here hates me as much as they hate you. I'm the leader and the main character. I'm kicking you out!"

"Some main character you are," Gwendal scoffed. "A record low in sales for the series. And some leader! Who dealt the finishin' blow against that woman? _Me_. And who killed her wimpy boyfriend? Our (now defunct) guild leader, of all people!"

Darius began to wail loudly.

"Oh, now look what you've done," Wylfred accused him. "You made our guild leader cry. I hope you're happy with yourself."

"Anyway," Gwendal continued, "what I'm sayin' is that you're wimpier than the guild leader. I should be the leader of our little group."

Wylfred couldn't take these insults any longer. He charged at Gwendal, meaning to punch him in the gut. But somehow, he ended up punching the floor. Gwendal began to howl with laughter.

"How much liquor ya got in you?" he asked. "What was that you were drinkin'-whisky and cream? How in the name of Thor did ya get drunk off o' that?"

"Shut up!" Wylfred shouted, staggering to his feet. He placed a hand on his sword's hilt. "Shut your ugly mouth or I'll shut it for good!"

"Please, not in my tavern!" begged the owner.

"Don't worry," Wylfred assured him. "I'll make sure this lout pays for anything he damages." He drew his sword. "Come at me, limpdick!"

Gwendal laughed again. "I respectively decline. I'm not about to get in a fight with a runt who can't even stand up straight!"

"Damn you! You dare to mock me? I'll hit you so hard you'll be sent back in time!" Wylfred rushed at Gwendal, swinging his sword wildly.

"Father, stop him!" Cheripha cried.

"Yes, please, stop him!" the owner added. "I don't want any bloodshed in my place of business!"

The other patrons were watching the whole spectacle with a mix of amusement and concern. But not one of them stepped up to put a stop to Wylfred's charging madness.

Gwendal stood in front of the door as Wylfred stumbled toward him. As soon as the boy yelled, "Prepare to die!" Gwendal simply opened the door, and Wylfred fell face-first onto the ground. His sword clattered to the ground next to him.

Much to Wylfred's mortification, he began to weep. "I'm the main character," he sobbed over and over again. He couldn't believe he had been defeated in such a humiliating manner.

Gwendal sighed and walked over to him, holding out his hand. "Look, boy, I'm sorry I said those things to ya. You can't let a bit o' banter between men-at-arms get ya so angry. You may have made a fool o' yourself, but ya proved that you're more than just talk, and I say that's worth somethin'."

Wylfred sniffed. "I don't want your pity."

"For Odin's sake, ya think someone like me is capable of pity? I'm tellin' ya the gods' honest truth. It takes a real man to stand back up after a fall, so get up off your ass and come back inside."

"I still hate you, you know," Wylfred said, glaring.

"Of course ya do. But hey, I'm used to it. Now get back in before I clobber ya. You haven't even finished your whisky and cream."

Wylfred did come back inside, and the others knew better not to say anything about what had transpired. Instead, they talked about what they would do next.

"I guess for the time being," Wylfred said, "I'm going to keep on working as a mercenary." He turned to Lockswell and Cheripha. "You two don't have to stay with me, you know. Isn't it dangerous for you to be in Artolia?"

"We're used to living dangerously," Cheripha explained.

Lockswell nodded. "Anyway, it looks like we've been forgotten. I think the government has more important things to worry about now."

Gwendal slapped his hand on the table. "Well, I ain't gonna miss any of the fun. I can't wait to see what happens with the succession crisis."

Darius sighed and grumbled, "It's not like I have a choice but to stick with you and Gwendal, Wylfred." He smiled bitterly. "I guess I could do a lot worse."

"Then it's settled." Wylfred looked around the table at everyone. "There may be tough times ahead. But at least we'll be making a living, right?"

His words were met with silence.

"Hey, everyone!" the owner announced. "It's midnight! Happy New Year!"

A sad-sounding chorus of "Happy New Year" came from the patrons in the tavern.

"I'll drink to that," Gwendal said. He looked much happier than the rest of the group. "Come on, ya sulkers. Let's have a toast to the new year and to the money we'll be makin.'"

More to get him to shut up than for any other reason, the others reluctantly joined in the toast.

_Well, what the hell_, Wylfred thought. _I guess he can stay around a while longer. As long as everyone hates him, we can avoid fighting with each other_.

He would be glad to get rid of him when the time came, though.

THE END


End file.
